Birthday Wishes
by SlytherinForLife77
Summary: The baby reached over and grabbed George's thumb and put it in his mouth. He had a tuft of bright, flaming red hair. His eyes slowly opened. They were brown. Fred. That was his name. The second George had seen him he knew it. Fred Weasley. George's son. He felt pride course through his body. A fanfic on different stages in George's life after Fred's death.


**Hello. This a one shot I wrote and decided to publish it. So this is on George Weasley and a few important stages in his life. Hope you like it!**

* * *

"**Grief never ends…. But it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith…. It is the price of love"**

**Anonymous**

* * *

**Birthday Wishes**

George Weasley looked down and saw his face staring back at him. Except it wasn't his face. There were a few differences between his face, and the one on the ground. The face on the ground had two ears. George had one. The face on the ground had a ghost of a smile on his face. George had horror etched onto his face. The face on the ground had cold, dead, lifeless eyes. George's eyes were welling up with tears.

George Weasley knew there was only one person who looked almost exactly like him. But… it couldn't be. No. Fred had promised. Fred had promised!

George raced over and inspected the body. He fell to the ground, and lifted his dead brother's head and placed it in his lap.

Everyone slowly died out. He hugged his dead brother's body, and for the first time, in 10 years, he cried. He let a tear slowly drizzle down his cheek. He didn't cry when Ginny had been taken. He didn't cry when they lost their first quidditch match in three years. He didn't cry when Dad almost died. He didn't cry when Ron was poisoned. He didn't cry when Percy left. He didn't cry when Sirius or Mad-Eye died. He didn't cry when he was banned from quidditch. He laughed it all out. He laughed through all of it. Because he knew everything was going to be alright. Everything was always going to be alright because Fred was always going to be by his side.

He started laughing. Soon he was laughing hysterically, clutching Fred's body in his arms. It was funny. Really funny how when we think everything's going to be alright life comes back to tell us that we belong to her. It was even funnier because he thought he and Fred were going to be alright.

He was stupid. Stupid for believing everything would be fine. That this war would go by without any casualties. Tears streamed down his face but he continued to laugh hysterically.

"You promised. You promised! YOU PROMISED FRED! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU SAID WE WOULD GET THROUGH THIS TOGETHER! You promised Fred." His voice cracked at the end as he stared back down at his dead brother's body. He wasn't laughing anymore. No. He wasn't crying either. He was numb. Just numb. He didn't feel anything.

Somewhere in between Mum had started sobbing and came to hug him. He didn't say anything. Everyone looked up at him. Their eyes held pity. George wanted to scream to the world.

'_I don't want your pity! I want my brother back!' _He stared down at his brother. The numbness was fading and reality was sinking in. George closed Fred's eyes and got up slowly, aware that all eyes were on him.

They were going to pay. They were going to suffer for what they did to him. When he was done, death would be mercy.

"Who killed him?" His voice held authority. His eyes were as cold as Fred's and his voice held venom. Nobody answered him. "I said, who killed him?" He raised his voice and it had the desired effect.

"Rookwood." Percy quickly replied.

George stalked away, his eyes seeing red.

* * *

George was leaning over Rookwood. Rookwood's nose was broken. Each and every finger had been stomped on until they lay mangled and twisted. His leg was twisted in a weird way and Rookwood was screaming, begging for mercy as he used the cruciatus curse for the 3rd time on him that night.

"Stop. Please stop! I'll do anything. Anything!"

"I want my brother back. Can you bring Fred back?" George looked straight into Rookwood's eyes as he asked, curious for his response. George didn't let him answer.

"Sectumsempra!" George stood, watching Rookwood suffer. Watched him beg for mercy. His screams were music to George's ears. He laughed. It was only fair. Rookwood should suffer. George stomped right on his ribs, satisfied when he heard a solid crack. He was vaguely aware of someone letting out a gasp behind him. He couldn't care less.

"Crucio!" He yelled, and listened to Rookwood scream. He was going to regret killing Fred.

"Stop! STOP IT!" It wasn't Rookwood that was pleading anymore. It was a girl behind him. A girl that he considered a friend. A girl that he spent time laughing and teasing with. That very girl who used to laugh at his jokes was looking at him with a newfound horror in his eyes.

"He killed him. He killed Fred! He deserves this, Angelina!" George started to plead his case. She began to step forward, still trembling slightly. She looked into George's eyes and tossed her arms around him. George lay in shock for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and sobbed quietly.

"It's not fair. Angelina, it's not fair! Why should he get to live when Fred dies?"

"He shouldn't. He doesn't deserve to live after what he did to Fred. But you are better than him George. Don't stoop to his level. If you do, than you are no better than the man who killed Fred. Don't torture him George. That's not you. He can pay for his crimes in Hell." She reached out, and steadied George's wand hand. She helped George raise it and pointed the wand at Rookwood, who was slowly closing his eyes, getting ready for the fate he deserved.

George braced himself. He was about to say two words. Two words that are responsible for so much death. The two words that had killed Harry's parents, Remus, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Fred. He opened his mouth.

"Avad-" He couldn't do it. No. He couldn't utter the very words that had ended Fred's life. He just couldn't. Rookwood can suffer in Azkaban.

* * *

The joke shop was dusty. He sneezed. This was the first time George set foot in the joke shop for months. He had avoided it. After Fred died, he, well he didn't have the heart to run the business. But then Ron volunteered. And he didn't have an excuse to avoid the shop.

He sighed. He glanced at the closed sign. Grabbed it in his hands, and blew on it, clearing the dust from it. He then proceeded to slowly flip it over. OPEN. This was it. He was doing it. He was moving on.

George clutched his stomach. He flipped the sign back to closed. How could he? He can't possibly begin to move on from his dead twin in only 3 months. No. George would never move on from Fred. He could only attempt to. He flipped the sign back over to open. George stood there for a minute, trying to remember the days where he was happy to flip over that sign. He couldn't do it. He turned around and walked away from the sign, without looking back.

* * *

The dementor floated toward him. There was an Azkaban escape. The dementors hadn't caught the guy yet. They were getting hungrier.

The dementor began to glide towards George. George pulled out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" It didn't have the intended effect.

The dementor moved closer. It got colder. Goosebumps traveled up his arms. He shivered. He couldn't remember the last time he had been happy. Must have been months ago. When Fred was here.

George thought of Fred. His twinkling eyes. The mischievous look on his face. His mad beater skills. The day they started the shop. The way his face looked on the ground. The way the ghost of his last laugh was still etched upon his face. It didn't work. He couldn't think of anything happy. He was going to die. Just like Fred. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He would finally see his brother again.

The dementor reached towards him, ready to suck his soul out. But George just stood there. There was a look of uncertainty on his face. Did he really want to die?

Ron ran forward. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _He bellowed rather loudly. Then the dementor was just gone. But Ron still stood there. He was panting, but stared at him nonetheless. "I can't lose another brother, George." George looked down at his hands, suddenly ashamed of the fact that he had almost given up. Ron left him, sensing he wanted to be alone.

George let a tear fall. A single tear he let drizzle from his eye. Just one tear before he would put his facade back on. He couldn't do it. He started crying.

"Why did you have to leave me Fred? It's not fair. You didn't deserve to die!" George stood up suddenly and kicked a trash can to the ground. He was panting now. He was done. Done with the pity. Done with the weakness. Done with losing Fred.

* * *

The joke shop was busy once more. It was packed top to bottom with people. And George was getting better. He had come to terms with Fred's death, and was finally trying to move past it.

"Next!" There was a seemingly infinite line full of people that even led outside. The girl walked up holding one of the recent developments. The Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The best fireworks out there. " That will be 7 galleons," He said absentmindedly. The girl held out the money, and George looked up. It was Angelina. The very girl that had saved him from a terrible doom.

"Woah woah woah. What do you think you're doing? I can't accept this." He closed her palm over the money.

"Take the money George. I want the fireworks."

"They're free of charge for you, m'lady."

"George," She sighed. "Take the money!"

"No. Besides, I owe you. You saved me at Hogwarts."

"I didn't save you. You saved yourself."

"But the thing is, Angelina, I wouldn't have saved myself, if it wasn't for you. So just take the fireworks."

She sighed knowing she couldn't win this argument. "Fine. But I owe you." Wait a minute. George decided he could make do with that.

Angelina began to walk away. George followed her, ignoring the long line of protests.

"Wait! Angelina, would you maybe like to catch up at Three Broomsticks sometime?" He asked, slightly nervous and out of breath.

"I'd-I'd like that George. I'll see you Saturday afternoon."

George watched her walk away. And when he was sure she was gone, he pumped his fist in the air.

"YEAH!" Little did he know this was the first time he had smiled since Fred's death. George Weasley was finally making a comeback.

* * *

It was a beautiful afternoon, and George was finally ready. He had taken Angelina to the beach. It wasn't very crowded but enough so it wasn't lonely. Angelina was laying in the sand in a silver one piece. She was reading a book, her sunglasses rested on top of her wild, flying hair.

"Angelina, want to build a sand castle?"

"No, leave me alone."

"Please?"

"No." And with that George had an idea. He stood up and swiftly snatched the book out of her hands with expertise.

"George! Give it back!"

"Nope!" He said as he looked her square in the eye, unafraid of her wrath.

"Please?"

"Nope! Not unless you build a sandcastle with me."

"Fine." And with that the defeated girl got on her knees slowly and began crafting. George watched her for a few minutes before he began to join her.

Angelina walked over to the water with the bucket in her hand. This was his chance.

George began spelling out words in the sand slowly and beautifully. You can't deny that his handwriting was perfect. With that he snuck away.

Angelina arrived a minute later. She looked at the sand and let out a gasp.

In the sand were four very beautiful words.

'WILL YOU MARRY ME?'

Angelina gasped loudly before she turned around to look for her boyfriend. Right behind her was George, in his quidditch swim trunks and striped shirt. He was on one knee with a beautiful ring in his hand. Angelina placed one hand over her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes.

"George… oh my god! I don't know what to say."

"You can say yes." The sun was setting and George was looking at her with utter expectancy. The waves were roaring and suddenly Angelina knew what to say.

"Yes," She uttered. "Oh my god! Yes! YES!" She pulled him to his feet, let him put the ring on her, and slammed her lips on his. George was taken back, but then began to kiss back with just as much urgency.

'_I know you're watching Fred. I hope you're happy for us.'_

* * *

George was fiddling with his thumbs. He was leaning on an uncomfortable chair before he suddenly stood up. He began to pace and took deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He began to count. Counting always helped him when he was nervous.

10\. He sat down again.

9\. He looked up. Someone was standing right above him.

8\. Ginny. She held out her hand to him.

7\. He grasped it tightly.

6\. He stood up and looked at his little sister.

5\. She wrapped her arms tightly around him.

4\. George stared at her flaming red hair before he wrapped his arms around his sister and let her comfort him.

3\. He looked around him. Everyone was here. Everyone was with him.

2\. He let go of Ginny. He looked her square in the eye and whispered a soft thank you. He had needed that hug.

1\. '_I hope you're watching Fred.'_

0\. And at precisely 12:37 AM a loud cry broke the silence that night.

George turned his head towards the source of the noise. He ran to the room. In Angelina's arms was his son. His new son. He was going to be a dad. He was going to be a dad! It seemed to finally have sunk in. He could almost hear Fred laughing.

He glanced at his son. Angelina placed him in his arms. He rocked the baby back and forth before he stopped crying. The baby reached over and grabbed George's thumb and put it in his mouth. He had a tuft of bright, flaming red hair. His eyes slowly opened. They were brown. Fred. That was his name. The second George had seen him he knew it. Fred Weasley. George's son. He felt pride course through his body.

Fred Weasley was in for a hell of a ride.

* * *

It was young Fred Weasley's birthday. He was finally getting the concept of birthdays and was spoiled rotten. Today he was super excited. He had already zoomed around the house in his toy broomstick and shattered the vase and almost ran into the cake.

Young Fred Weasley was ready to blow out his candles when a question poked at him.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Dad when's your birthday?" George Weasley glanced up unconsciously.

"April 1st. Why?" Fred avoided his question and asked another question.

"How come you never celebrate? We've been to Aunt Ginny's birthday and Uncle Ron's."

"Well, I don't feel like celebrating that day." George answered carefully.

"Why not?"

"Well Fred, you had another uncle. He was my twin. In fact you were named after him. Fred Weasley. But Fred fought to save the world. He fought to save all of us, but he couldn't come back."

"Did he save the world?"

"Yes. He did." George replied immediately. Of course Fred had saved the world. Hell, he had even died saving it.

"So you don't celebrate? Because you miss him?"

"Yes. I miss him a lot. I did everything with Fred." George answered truthfully.

"Well I want you to celebrate with me, Dad. Will you blow the candles out with me?" Fred had asked, his huge amber eyes, wide and curious, full of innocence, and George couldn't say no.

"Of course. If you want me to." Fred had nodded so fast George was sure his head would fall off.

And so that night, Fred and George blew out the candles together for the first time in nineteen years.


End file.
